


Revenge So Sweet

by anamuan



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Hand Jobs, Loud Sex, M/M, Moaning, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Teasing, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-30
Updated: 2008-08-30
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamuan/pseuds/anamuan
Summary: Kame makes Koki pay; Koki gives as good as he gets.





	Revenge So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of [ultimate boyfriend (or how koki spent the night not getting off)](http://community.livejournal.com/calreskuee/16779.html#cutid1) for sanctified_x because i am easy and she is lovely. Thank you to [sagisou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagisou/profile) for the once-over when i probably should have been letting her get to bed.

Kame spends the day blithely unaware of _why_exactly, Koki is mad at him and with every reference Kame doesn't get, every jibe Jin gets in, every single fucking moment Kame _doesn't_remember the sex Koki and Kame _haven't_ had, Koki's mood gets worse. It doesn't help when Jin pinches his ass during break, insinuating that _he_knows how to show someone a good time. It isn't clear whether Jin is insulting Kame or Koki, which makes it worse. Practice runs late too--particularly for Koki, because Kame, of all people, suggests to the choreographer that Koki wants extra practice. Koki's ready to spit nails. See if he ever tries to get Kame off again.  
  
Needless to say, when he's finally free, and Kame calls him as he searches the dressing room for his jacket, he isn't planning to answer. He, in fact, doesn't answer. Not the first time, or the second, or the third. By the fifth, though, Koki is starting to realize that Kame will just keep calling until he picks up or he jumps off a building to get away from the sound.  
  
"What?" Koki snarls into the phone three-fourths of the way through ring number eight.  
  
"You forgot your coat at my place," he sing-songs back. Kame seems unphased by the less than amicable greeting.  
  
That brings Koki up short. They'd been at _his_house last night. And then the word 'coat' comes into focus in his mind--the coat he's looking for. Kame took it. On purpose. To call him. And whine.  
  
It takes Koki a minute to get the angry choking noises he's making under control enough to respond, but by then Kame is flippantly telling Koki that if he wants it, he has to come by his place to get it and is hanging up. Koki may have spit one actual nail.  
  
  
The front door was unlocked when Koki gets there, which was, he thinks, the least Kame can do. His coat is hanging off the back of a chair in the kitchen. He can see it from the doorway. At least Kame isn't hiding it or something and being totally difficult, Koki thinks.  
  
Until he walks into the kitchen. Just out of sight of the door sits Kame, smirking. Smirking, without pants. Smirking, without pants, and pulling a lazy rhythm on his very hard cock. When Koki walks into the kitchen, Kame combs his other hand through his messy hair, tangling in the curls and pulling. And starts moaning.  
  
The first sound out of Kame's throat is low and needy and _dirty_ and somehow turns into a litany--a low, needy, dirty litany--of what is probably Koki's name. Koki feels rooted to the spot, maybe by all the nails he's been spitting, just staring at the scene in front of him. He couldn't have look away if he'd wanted to, and he really doesn't want to.  
  
Kame runs the hand in his hair down across his neck to skirt along the collar of his shirt. "Let me show you a party trick," he murmurs, sliding his first two fingers into his mouth.  
  
"Where did you even learn those things," Koki mutters under his breath, quiet over the rush of blood in his head, but maybe it isn't so quiet afterall because Kame hears him anyway. Out come the fingers with a pop that sends Koki's blood pounding even harder. Kame's wrist twists, sending his fingers over the head in a way that rips sound from _Koki's_ throat too. Kame's reply comes in a hard grunt, "Ueda," and Koki doesn't--can't--believe he's heard right. There is a moment, or several moments, as Koki thinks hard and the blood receeds from his ears and the only sound in the room is Kame sucking noisily at his fingers.  
  
Koki clears his throat at last. "U-Ueda?" he asks.  
  
Kame's affirmation is more moaning than anything, arching up into his own hand and Koki snaps, dropping to the floor and crawling towards Kame on the floor. "I don't think I like Ueda's party tricks," Koki starts to say, reaching for Kame's cock, but then Kame's grabbing for the back of his neck, blunt nails scraping across the short hair there, pulling him closer.  
  
The kiss is rough. Koki pours all his pent-up frustration into it, and Kame just drinks it up, taking everything he can get and demanding more. Kame grabs Koki's other wrist where it has stalled midair and pulls it the rest of the way to his cock, demanding attention. Kame guides Koki's hand over his length roughly, moaning into the kiss as his hips jerk up into the touch. All of it goes straight to Koki's cock; the tickle of where Kame's shirt sleeve brushes his skin, Kame's fingers curling against the back of his head, the sounds Kame's making, the feel of him under his hand.  
  
Kame moves Koki's hand up to twist around the head, bucking up into his hand with a kind of choked-off cry, unintentionally biting down on Koki's bottom lip. We can't have that, oh no, Koki thinks. He's still mad at Kame. Kame's not getting off--no pun intended--that easily, no. Koki stills his hand, twists his grip and tightens it, sliding it down from the head to the base roughly. His fingers settle in a tight circle around the base, building up pressure, and Kame whimpers and squirms. His leg spasms involuntarily, his whole body working to get some friction, and Kame breaks away from Koki's mouth just to pant, to try to catch his breath.  
  
"What did you do wrong?" Koki demands harshly, keeping his hand firmly in place.  
  
Kame whimpers and bucks his hips up futilely. Koki drags blunt nails up ever so gently against Kame's cock. Pure tortue. "You don't know, do you."  
  
Kame's fingers dig into Koki's shoulders and he whines low in his throat, but he can't deny it, not when Koki's got him by the balls (literally), so he shakes his head. Koki frowns and drags a nail through the slit of Kame's dick. Kame jerks like he's been electrocuted, and if Koki hadn't had such a tight hold at the base of his cock, he would have come right then.   
  
As it is, all Kame can do is dig his nails into Koki's shoulders, thighs shaking as he gasps. His hips rock in frantic, useless circles because he _wants_it and he has no shame. Koki tightens his grip around the base of Kame's cock until it's beyond painful, but Kame just shudders and moans for more.  
  
A fresh wave of lust slams into Koki and it takes all of Koki's willpower to remember that he wants to make Kame beg for it, make him suffer, give him a taste of what Koki had gone through last night. Kame is leaking on Koki's fingers and Koki can't help licking his fingers for a taste.  
  
Kame bites his lip at the sight and scrabbles for purchase with his legs. When he finds it, he thrusts up despite Koki's hold on him. He hasn't really stopped whining since Koki's started touching him; Koki doesn't think Kame even knows he's doing it. Koki pushes his fingers past Kame's lips and Kame groans at the lingering taste of himself on the skin.  
  
"K-K-Koki," Kame moans, his name distorted by the fingers in his mouth, "_please_." His hips are still hitching upwards and his hands are probably leaving bruises on Koki's back and Koki realizes that his own hips are jerking forward reflexively against nothing. He dips his head and drags his tongue in a wet swipe across the tip of Kame's cock and Kame's whole body twiches. Sweat soaks through Kame's hair and drips down his temples and beads on his chin. Koki thinks he looks perfect just like this, straining for the _more_he can't reach.  
  
"You can come when you get me off. Not before." Koki says, and Kame has his hands on Koki's dick before he finishes the second sentence. Kame's desperation shows in his grip. It's sloppy and fast and rough and Kame's hands jerk with the erratic beating of his heart--Koki can feel the rhythm beating out under his thumb where it is curled at the base of Kame's cock--but it is good. Kame sucks on Koki's fingers in a fair imitation of the best blowjob Koki's ever had and then he snakes one hand even lower to curl around Koki's balls and that's all it takes, Koki coming over his hands and the kitchen floor.  
  
Kame moans when Koki comes and his cock hardens impossibly more, like he's getting off on just the feel of Koki in his hands. His voice rises at the end, back to that desperate, hitching whine. "Good boy," Koki pants, trying to catch his breath, air ghosting over the head of Kame's cock as he releases his hold at the base. Without Koki's hand to hold him back, Kame comes in an instant, a hot sticky splash over Koki's lips and cheek and chin. His hips arch up and his head falls back and his whimper turns into a scream before he collapses into an exhausted heap.  
  
Koki feels himself twitch again, unexpectedly, almost painfully, and he knows that if he hadn't just come, he would have then, come dripping off his face and onto Kame's stomach. He flops over onto his side next to Kame, cheek resting on Kame's pointy hipbones and thinks that he's never going to let Kame in on _that_ little secret.


End file.
